Saving Severus Snape
by JinnyJ
Summary: Harry has been having bad dreams again. This time, however, it is not Voldemort's mind he seems to be sharing: it is Snape's. Voldemort has discovered that Snape is a traitor and is holding him captive. After OoTP. Completed. Please review.
1. Chapter One: Bad Dreams

**Chapter One: Bad Dreams**

_It was dark, so dark. His wand had been taken away. He could hear, not so very far away, unpleasant sounds of human misery. Wails, groans, and once, terrifyingly, a scream that went on and on as though someone had walked into their worst nightmare and realized they would not wake up._

_Despite himself, he found that his whole body was shaking uncontrollably with a fear that would not be stilled._

_Worse: somebody was approaching..._

Harry awoke with a yell, sweating and cold. The bedcovers were twisted around him, almost strangling him. He was panting desperately, and hung over the side of the bed trying not to vomit.

"Harry..." Ron said hoarsely, standing over him. His eyes were wide and scared. "Harry, mate, I'm going to get Mum...."

Harry tried to protest that he was OK, it was nothing, but too late: Ron had already dashed out of the bedroom they were sharing at the London headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.

An hour later, Mrs Weasley was still fussing worriedly around him. Harry had been overruled. A coded message had been sent by the Floo Network, and Dumbledore was on his way.

"Look, I'm OK now, really," Harry tried to convince her. The ruckus had also roused the other occupants of number 12, Grimmauld Place. Not only Ron and Mrs Weasley, but also Ginny, Hermione, Fred and George were clustered around the kitchen table, clutching beakers of hot chocolate and gazing at Harry with anxious eyes. Mr Weasley and Lupin were out on jobs for the Order, or Harry had no doubt that they too would be sitting staring at him with just that look of mingled concern and fear.

"It wasn't him!" Harry said again. He could understand everybody's anxiety, he supposed. Last time Harry had experienced dreams from the inside of somebody else's head, it was because he and Lord Voldemort were beginning to share mind-space. While Harry had learned some useful information this way, it had also been incredibly dangerous, for Voldemort had learned how to manipulate the connection to his own advantage. And in consequence . . . Sirius . . . Sirius had died . . .

Harry sheered away from that most dreadful of memories. "It wasn't Voldemort!"

Most people winced at the sound of the dark wizard's name. Nobody seemed particularly disposed to believe Harry, or to say, well, everything's all right then, let's all get back to bed.

"It wasn't Voldemort!" Harry repeated. He hesitated, then scanned the faces at the table. A puzzled note entered his voice. "It was.... It was Snape . . . "

Dumbledore steepled his fingers together and closed his eyes. He did not say anything for a long moment. The expression on his face was difficult to read, but if Harry had been required to guess, he would have said what he saw was despair.

"Er... Professor?" Harry ventured. This was not the reaction he had expected.

"Albus!" broke in Mrs Weasley. "What does it mean. . . oh dear. . . look, you lot, get off back to bed . . . do we need to get hold of anyone else? Remus, perhaps, or Kingsley?"

The four youngest Weasleys, Hermione and Harry ignored Mrs Weasley's instructions and remained determinedly gathered around the table.

"I SAID BED!" Mrs Weasley directed a furious glance at them all.

Dumbledore shook his head, and sighed. "Let them stay. We found out to our cost that nothing good comes of keeping our young charges in ignorance. It merely opens the way for others to . . . deceive them."

Mrs Weasley did not look convinced, but evidently was not going to enter into dispute with Dumbledore over this one. She cast a particularly darkling glance at Ginny, who remained seated and returned her gaze blandly, but she did not say anything further on the subject.

"So, Albus, what is it?" she asked once more. "Is Harry . . . is Harry having visions of _him_ again?"

Harry opened his mouth in exasperation to point out, yet again, that his dream had not been of Voldemort. Dumbledore, however, got there first.

"No, Molly. Not this time. From what Harry says, I fear something else entirely. Severus . . . I am worried, Molly, I fear very much that Severus . . .."

Mrs Weasley gasped, and turned white.

"Snape!" burst in Ron heatedly. "This is all about Snape! What does it mean, has he gone back at last to his _real_ master! The git..."

Hermione frowned him down, and dug him hard in the ribs with her elbow. Her eyes were on Dumbledore, whose expression was turning to anger.

"I have told you all repeatedly," Dumbledore said sharply, "that I trust Severus Snape. You, I understand, do not like him as a teacher. That is irrelevant. Professor Snape has been undertaking difficult, dangerous work for the Order. You know this."

"Snape...._Professor_ Snape, I mean .. .has been spying on Voldemort, hasn't he?" stammered Harry. "He's been pretending he is still a Death Eater?" (At this point, Ron snorted into his hands, then rapidly turned the noise into a cough.) "So what does it mean? Why am I suddenly dreaming that I'm Snape?"

Dumbledore closed his eyes once more, as if what he saw was too unpleasant to contemplate.

"I suspect," he said quietly, "from what you told me of your dream, that Professor Snape has been captured by Voldemort."

Harry paused a moment, but chose not to digest this information. "Yes, but why am I dreaming of him? What's going on?"

"It may well be, Harry, that the months you and he spent together last year, when he was attempting to teach you Occlumency so that you could block your thoughts and dreams from Voldemort, have forged a link between your mind and his. Normally, this link is too fragile and tenuous for you to intrude on each other. Now . . . what I fear is that Snape's mind has suddenly become wide open to you . . ."

"But that means -" Mrs Weasley interrupted, her face turning if anything paler. "If Snape's mind is open...You-know-who . . . Severus knows everything about us, about the Order. . . "

Dumbledore nodded. "This is so. At present, however, I suspect his mind is broadcasting so freely to Harry precisely because all his energies are going into blocking his true thoughts from Voldemort and his minions. But as you know, our deepest secrets are in any case protected by unbreakable charms. If his mind is breached to that extent, he will die..."

Moments of the dream returned to Harry. The terror. The dark. The utter certainty of intense pain and devastation to come. All of a sudden, Harry was overcome with an emotion he had not thought ever to feel. Fearful concern. On behalf of Severus Snape.


	2. Chapter Two: In Voldemort's Lair

**Chapter Two: In Voldemort's Lair**

"_Snivellus!" jeered James Potter, running his fingers through his untidy black hair. "Why are you following me around, Snivellus?"_

"_I am not," returned Snape. "Despite your inexplicable belief that you are irresistible, it so happens that I have better taste than to desire to be in your vicinity. I am merely walking in the same direction."_

_Potter laughed again. "Oh, I don't think that I'm so irresistible. That would be my best mate Sirius here, wouldn't it? So how come you keep walking in the same direction as us then, eh, Snivellus? Could it be..." Potter's eyes wandered ahead, to the small group of girls sitting by the lake, towards whom he and Sirius were strolling. "Could it be that it's Lily Evans whose vicinity you want to be in?"_

_Snape's skin was oily and sallow, but a red tinge began to seep into his cheeks._

"_It is!" crowed Potter! "OY! EVANS!"_

_A very good-looking girl with dark red hair turned around and raised her eyebrows enquiringly. Her eyes were a deep green._

"_You've got an admirer! Go on, Snivellus, ask her out..."_

"_Her!" Snape uttered in freezing accents. "In case you hadn't noticed, Potter, she happens to be a Mudblood. Unlike you, I have no desire to pollute –"_

_He got no further. With a snarl of rage, James Potter had pulled out his wand._

"Accio _wand_!"

_Snape's own wand flew from the pocket of his robes. Before he could move, or dodge, a hex burst into his face. He found himself literally dripping in liquid pig dung. It was heaped on his head, running in rivulets down his greasy black hair, and pouring down his face. He raised hands that trembled slightly to clean the muck away from his eyes, but even as he did this another hex struck him. He found himself dancing a silly little jig. His feet pranced and kicked and executed smart little steps._

"_POTTER!" another voice interrupted with a roar. Snape's feet, released from the jinx, collapsed under him and he fell to the ground._

"_Sorry, Professor," said James lazily. He did not sound sorry._

Harry jerked briefly into full awareness. He had found out last year how mercilessly his father had teased and bullied Snape. It had not made him feel good then. It did not make him feel good now. His eyes fluttered and he muttered restlessly, then sank back into the visions parading before his reluctant mind. His body, now upright in the armchair, had gone rigid.

_The first years filed nervously past him, too intimidated by their entrance into the Great Hall even to chatter. His gaze swept over them, then fell on one particular face._

_Harry Potter! It had to be. He had the same black hair which refused to lie down, the same features, doubtless the same bullying, arrogant, domineering nature. An odd churning feeling started in his stomach. He hid his sudden perturbation behind an especially nasty sneer. Potter! In his class, and looking just like his damned father._

_Except for his eyes, he noticed suddenly. His perturbation increased. The boy had Lily's eyes...._

"_Well, Mr Potter," he drawled to himself. "How _nice_ to welcome such a celebrity into Hogwarts."_

_His thoughts were suddenly ripped from contemplation of the past. It had always annoyed him, the extent to which Potters past and present seemed to define the contours of his life. But now, more pressing matters caught his attention. The door of his cell was opening. He scrabbled in his chains to try to sit up and confront whoever was entering._

_It was not _him_, but that was the only good thing that could be said. The person entering was a woman. Sirius Black's cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, who had escaped from Azkaban the previous year and then been whisked away from recapture by the Dark Lord himself._

"_Well, well, well," she said. She murmured under her breath, and the darkness of the cell was abruptly banished in a flood of greenish light. "Mr Snape, I believe. Our master is not pleased with you...not pleased with you at all...."_

_He maintained his silence, and sneered up at her. The sneer was not really an act of bravado. It had simply become his habitual expression over the years._

_He shifted; her eyes gleamed at him under their heavy lids. She looked excited. His experience of Bellatrix did not lead him to suppose this meant anything but bad news._

"_Very displeased with you he is..._traitor_!" She hissed at him, her face contorting in sudden rage. Then her expression relaxed again, and she smiled. Once, before Azkaban, she had been a very beautiful woman. "But the good news is, my darling, that he doesn't want to kill you. Oh no. He has much, much more interesting plans for you than that. But my dear Lord, my beloved Master, is very pleased with _me_. And as a reward, he has allowed me to come down here to play with you for a little while. Won't that be nice?"_

_Helpless without his wand and in the heavy chains, Snape slammed back against the wall of the cell as the impact of the Cruciatus curse hit him. Agony ripped endlessly along his nerve-endings. He knew he was yelling. He knew he was writhing, screaming, pleading. Above it all, he could hear another noise. A woman, laughing, with glee_.

Harry gulped down the glass of restorative potion Mrs Weasley held out to him. He was still breathing raggedly. This time, the visions had come out of the blue while he was sprawled in an armchair letting his thoughts drift aimlessly. As soon as he was able to speak, he turned to Lupin who was regarding him gravely.

"We've got to find him! We've got to help him! They're – they're – torturing him."

"Harry." Lupin's voice was serious and quiet. "You know we are doing everything we can. Snape may not be one of our most popular colleagues, but he is a member of the Order, and we would not willingly leave him in such a situation."

"Professor," Hermione's voice piped up hesitantly. "Could it be – I mean – how do we know it isn't a trick? Like, like last time...."

Everyone glanced at Harry with foreboding. Voldemort had thoroughly deceived Harry the preceding summer, when he had sent him false visions of Sirius suffering under the Cruciatus curse. Harry, as Voldemort had known he would, had gone charging off to the rescue. What awaited him was not Sirius, but Voldemort's Death Eaters. While Voldemort's plans had been foiled, and all in all another victory notched up for the Order, part of the price paid for that victory had been Sirius Black's life. Sirius had been amongst those who had come after Harry and his friends, to save them. Harry was still raw with the pain of it, and had not really persuaded himself that it was not all his fault for falling into the trap in the first place.

Lupin, though, was shaking his head. "No, Hermione, we are sure of that. Dumbledore has monitored Harry's dreams very carefully. They are definitely originating from Severus Snape. Dumbledore knows the pattern of his mind. In fact, probably the only reason Dumbledore isn't also receiving Snape's thoughts is because he necessarily surrounds his own mind with the most powerful possible protections."

"Does that mean," Harry frowned as a thought occurred to him, "does that mean I am the only person who might be able to tune into him, and find him?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so," Lupin said thoughtfully. "Wherever they are hiding out will be unplottable, and surrounded by Confundus charms of the strongest kind. There is absolutely no chance of locating him through normal magical means. But, Harry, you mustn't try. It would be very dangerous. For us to get a fix on Snape through you would mean you entering deeply into his head. That's a risky business at the best of times. Now, with Snape's own defences so low, you might go in so far that you would never be able to come out again."

"So ...Harry would get stuck in Snape's head..."

Lupin sighed. "Pretty much. It would mean that Harry's mind would be joined with Snape's. Sharing whatever sufferings Voldemort is inflicting on Snape. Sharing, if it came to it, his death...."


	3. Chapter Three: Mind Meld

**Chapter Three: Mind Meld**

Upstairs, in the relative privacy of Ron and Harry's bedroom, Hermione folded her arms. "No, Harry. Absolutely not."

"Uh – what?" Ron looked from one to the other. "What does Harry want you to do?"

"He wants me to tell him how to join his mind with Snape's. Don't you, Harry?"

Harry rubbed his hands along his knees.

"Look, Hermione, it can't really be that dangerous, right? I mean, I'll still be right here, won't I? You can watch me, you can pull me back if it looks like I'm going into too deep."

"_No._"

"You want to do what?" Ron was disbelieving. "Why would you want to risk your own life for Snape? I don't mean I want him to be tortured by, by You-know-who, 'course I don't . But why does that mean you have to put yourself in danger? You can't stand him! None of us can!

Harry wondered how much to tell them. The previous year, during an Occlumency lesson, he had accidentally spied on Snape's miserable memories of his schooldays. He had promised then that he would not reveal what he had seen to anyone. He had meant it. He had been appalled by the behaviour of his father, and it had taken him a long while to come to terms with that dimension of his character.

"My dad," he said slowly, "when they were all at school, my dad was horrible to Snape. That's partly why he loathes me so much. I sort of feel...that I owe him something for that."

That wasn't all of it. The flashes of union with Snape's thoughts and feelings had exercised a powerful effect on Harry. It would be too much to say that he actually liked Snape, but he had gone some way towards understanding him. Even towards admiring him for the dangerous work he had volunteered to do on behalf of the Order. Harry did not underestimate the bravery required to deliberately set out to deceive Lord Voldemort.

"It's not a question of why you want to do it," Hermione said firmly. "Of course rescuing Snape from Voldemort would be a good thing to do." (Ron snorted into his hand again.) "But, Harry, it's just too dangerous. You heard Lupin."

"If you won't help me, I'll try to do it on my own. Not really knowing what I'm doing. Without anyone to step in if it all goes wrong."

Hermione fixed him with a stony stare in the face of this blackmail. Finally, she sighed.

"Right. Fine. But it's not only getting you to mindmeld with Snape, you know. We've also got to figure out how we can use that to pinpoint his location. And once we've done that, what then?"

"Then we can tell the Order, of course," Harry replied. "And they can come up with some way of getting him out of there. I mean, I know you think I have a hero-complex, Hermione, but really, last year cured me of that... I don't want to get into any more stupid messes that other people die trying to get me out of...."

The bitterness and hurt in Harry's voice as it trailed off into silence caused Hermione's face to soften.

"I'm not promising," she said. "I'll have to do some research, see what I can come up with. I assume all those old books are still up there in the attic?"

_They had left him alone for some time now. He was vaguely conscious of hunger, more aware of thirst. It didn't seem important. His whole body still burned with the aftermath of fearful pain. He recalled the Longbottoms, tortured by Bellatrix into insanity. Grimly, he wondered whether this fate awaited him. Whether, in fact, when it happened he would embrace it as a relief. That thought almost made him laugh. Certainly they would never allow it to happen if it caused him any respite from suffering. No, they would keep him just on the edge of what could be borne and still live, still retain consciousness of what was going on._

_He had no hope. He knew the Order would not be able to find him here, in Voldemort's lair. He wondered how much they would care. He was useful to them, of course, but it wasn't as though any of them actually liked him. Even Dumbledore, although at least Dumbledore had more than once proven that he did in fact trust him. That meant more to him than he was prepared to admit._

_Suddenly his vision flicked and shifted, as if the scene in front of him had been pushed sideways. For a moment, he looked out not at his dark cell, but at one of the rooms in 12 Grimmauld Place. Hermione Granger, of all people, was looking at him with an anxious expression on her buck-toothed face. What..? Maybe this was the first sign, the first evidence of his relapse into insanity. And even here, as he sank into madness, it seemed that he was to be haunted by Potter and his irritating little friends. His lip curled mirthlessly. There was no end to the tortures of the Dark Lord....Abruptly, unexpectedly, a stubborn will to resist rose up in him. He would not give in to Voldemort's attentions so easily. He gathered the fragments of his mind together, and thought hard of he, himself, Severus Snape..._

"He shut me out," Harry said, opening his eyes. "I was nearly there. He seemed to sense that something was going on, and he raised his defences."

Hermione chewed her lip. "This won't work if he won't let you in. It isn't a forced procedure, it has to be voluntary. On both sides."

"Well, let's just stop here then," advised Ron. "If the success of this depends on Snape letting Harry into his head, I reckon this is a waste of time."

"It is just possible," retorted Hermione, "that, upon reflection, Snape will decide he prefers the company of Harry to that of Lord Voldemort..."

"Wouldn't bet on it," Harry muttered.

"This was all your idea," Hermione reminded him. "Are you giving in?"

"No."

"Right. Close your eyes."

_This time it was a voice, speaking inside his head. And damn it! Once again his delusions seemed to be revolving around that bloody Potter boy._

"_Snape," it said. "Er – Professor, I mean. Can you hear me?"_

"_Hear you? Hear you? Of course I can hear you, it's me, I can hear my own marbles rattling merrily along as they fall out of my head. Be something else, why don't you. Why don't you be a nice dancing girl offering me promises of unthinkable paradise...."_

_The voice was patient, and rather soothing, as if talking to someone in a sickroom. "No, really. It's me. Er – Harry. Harry Potter."_

"_That," he said back to himself in very icy tones, "is precisely what I am complaining about. Don't I have enough to bear at the moment....?"_

"_Look." The voice became urgent. "I can't do this much longer, it's really difficult. I need to mindmeld with you, right? If we do that, we can find you with a locator spell focused through me...did you get that? I'll come back when I'm strong enough again..."_

_The voice faded off. Startled, Snape sat up in his chains, precipitating bursts of acute pain. Could it be? Had that really been Harry Potter? Was he really proposing that they join in that most intimate of mental unions....? He shuddered. Surely, this also was yet another product of his abused and disordered brain. The living out of all his nightmares...._

_The ironic thought vanished. He could hear footsteps. A nightmare of a rather more immediate and terrible nature was about, yet again, to begin._


	4. Chapter Four: Consequences

**Chapter Four: Consequences**

"Harry." Someone was shaking him, it hurt, the pain was too much, just too much, they had to stop- "Harry!"

Harry convulsed as he shook Snape out of his head. He turned to Hermione and Ron. "That was really close," he said. "I was so nearly there. Only.. it was a bad time for the link to strengthen....I mean...the Lestranges and Malfoy were with him...and..."

Hermione and Ron gazed at him in horror. Hermione shuddered visibly. Both had seen what Death Eaters were capable of.

"I think," Hermione said slowly, "if any of this is going to do Snape any good, we had better hurry..."

"_You need to let me in..."_

"_I do, do I? Even if I were no longer chained to this singularly damp and slimy wall, I doubt I am able so much as to walk any longer. What would you propose to do after that? Share my sufferings? Halve my troubles? What a wonderfully heroic and completely pointless gesture. How entirely typical of you, Potter."_

_The hallucination that Harry Potter was talking to him seemed to have resumed. He gave in to it. It was, at least, more entertaining than continuing to contemplate his own pain. What a shame, really, that he could not tell this to Potter. He would probably have found it almost as amusing he did himself. _

"_Well yeah, but I mean it's not all that flattering, is it? I mean, it's not like you have great alternatives here."_

"_True, Potter. Sadly, very true. So come along then. Let's have it. Let me share in what passes for a mind in your tragically limited worldview." Snape's sneer was directed as much at himself as at the shade of Harry Potter invading his consciousness._

_As the phantom presence of Harry Potter sank into his mind, the world turned itself inside-out. He found himself falling in a chasm of churning memories. _

_--- A kaleidoscope of images. --- A scar. Pain, again, of a different sort --- James Potter. Dad? Hate/love/hate --- Lily...an aching longing. His father hitting his mother. Whose mother? Weasleys, all over the place --- Rage, pain. --- Sirius, Sirius . . . Sirius. Maelstroms of anger, confusion. --- His father hitting him --- shutting down, shutting everyone out --- retreating behind a sneer and curtains of greasy hair --- Lily loves me, mum loves me... Whose mother?_

_Adolescents_, he thought in disdain as the whirling mass of confused thoughts receded. How did Potter _live_ in that chaos he chose to call a mind? He shook his head, to clear it. Oddly enough, that delusional little diversion had left him feeling better. Warmer, even. He hadn't realized how cold he had been feeling. He did not want to open his eyes again and return to that grim place of terror and waiting.

"Is it working?" a voice asked excitedly. It sounded rather like Ron Weasley, and it sounded rather like he was yelling into his left ear.

"Shush, Ron, yes...but don't disturb Harry....the locator spell hasn't quite got a fix yet."

He had not felt this comfortable in so long. He lay back and coasted in the illusion of a body free of pain.

"_Right_, got it. Quickly, now, Harry, pull out, it's been too long, pull out..."

In the dream, someone was shaking him and almost by reflex his eyes snapped open.

Hermione Granger was staring at him with an expression of enormous relief on her face.

"Harry! Thank goodness, oh thank goodness, I was so afraid we'd lost you..."

His mouth opened. He looked around. He stood up – rather clumsily; he seemed to be the wrong size and shape.

"Harry?"

"No." The voice that emerged from his lips was that of a boy just deepening into manhood. "Ah. No. I'm afraid not."

"What...?"

"You are talking to Professor Snape, Miss Granger."

"WHAT?!"

"Then where is Harry?!" Ron chimed in, panicking.

He cleared his throat. Or rather, he cleared Potter's throat.

"If I am here, then it seems to follow that he is . . . there....."

"Ron, get off him! RON, STOP HITTING HIM!"

Hermione yanked Ron off Harry's throat. Snape's throat. The boy on the bed with black hair's throat.

"Is this really happening?" the boy said in a detached way.

"YES!!!"

Awareness in the green eyes sharpened into abrupt focus. He jumped up.

"This is real? I am here? He is...there? Then, Miss Granger, what on earth are you still standing there for? You too, Weasley! Get Dumbledore and Lupin. NOW!"

_He was alone. The pain was worse than anything he had ever dreamed of. He tried to move, and found his body was past such things. What happened? Harry thought groggily. Where had Snape gone...he had swum through Snape's mind like a fish, and flopped out at the other side. And found himself alone......except, somewhere, for the footsteps...a deep tremour shook him. This body remembered._


	5. Chapter Five: Endgame

**Chapter Five: Endgame**

"I'LL BET HE DID IT ON PURPOSE! HE WAS TRYING TO HELP YOU AND YOU STOLE HIS BODY. YOU ARE A - "

"Ron," Dumbledore interrupted sharply. "Stop it. Calm down. Let me remind you that this was all entirely the idea of you three-"

"Send me back," Snape demanded urgently. "Send me back now." Hermione's sharp ears picked up his next words, as he lowered his voice for Dumbledore's attention alone. "While I still have the courage...."

Dumbledore laid a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"That may not be possible. I am not sure the conditions in which this exchange took place can be easily repeated."

He looked very grim.

"Why not, Professor?" Hermione enquired, frightened. "What...what has gone wrong?"

Dumbledore lifted his hand to his brow. "Severus. This is more your area of specialism, and you do have a certain ... personal insight as to what happened. What is your reading of the situation?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. It looked very odd to see such a Snape-like, jeering expression on Harry's face.

"Apart, you mean, from the fact that these monumentally stupid children have been interfering yet again with matters beyond their comprehension and abilities to handle?"

"Yes, Severus. Apart from that."

"He did not have sufficient control over the spell. He could not maintain the meld. And he became trapped in the body where he found himself when the spell failed. As I was . . . in a rather disconnected and dreaming state, my mind managed to flee down the avenue of escape the spell had opened up."

Dumbledore sighed. "I feared it was that. Yes, Hermione –"

Hermione was bouncing on her toes almost as she did in class when she was eager to answer a question. "But Professor, it did work!"

"_Work_?" Snape said incredulously. "You think your friend now languishing in the Dark Lord's dungeon instead of myself is a mark of your success at spells you have no actual grasp over? Surely even Potter's self-destructive tendencies fall short of thinking this a desirable result."

"No, of course not!" Hermione faced Dumbledore directly. "But we got the location, Professor. We know where he is. Where Harry is. Where... where Voldemort's lair is."

The boy with the peculiarly adult, sneering expression and Professor Dumbledore both turned, arrested, to look at her.

"Give me the location references," Dumbledore snapped out. "There is no time to lose."

There followed frenzied consultation. Direct assault was rejected. The Order was not ready to take on Voldemort and his Death Eaters in a head-on confrontation. The lair was undoubtedly rigged with all sorts of spells and defences which could only work against them. The ideal, it was agreed, would be to find a way of removing Snape – or should that be Harry – before anyone could respond. Undoubtedly, Voldemort's lair would be guarded by all sorts of sensors and alerts. Any intrusion would set off immediate alarms. Harry – or should that be Snape – would be largely helpless, physically weak and without a wand.

"The simple approach would seem best," Dumbledore decided. "Harry will not be able to Disapparate; he has no wand and has not been taught how yet anyway. A Portkey then, that is the answer. I will Apparate to the location references, and take with me a Portkey tuned to a safe place, which can only be activated by myself, Professor Snape and Harry."

"You will Apparate?" Snape's lip curled. "I think not, Albus. It needs to be me. With all the Confundus charms there will be set around the place, I am the only who could Apparate so precisely to where I, where Harry, am being held. My own body will draw me."

Dumbledore hesitated, looking at Snape over his half-moon glasses.

"Yes..." he said reluctantly. "I suppose you have a point, Severus. But Severus, do not touch him."

"I beg your pardon?" Snape looked haughty.

"Do not touch him. Physical touch may be the one thing that will recall each of you, instantly, to your own bodies. This would leave you back in chains, possibly unconscious, and Harry, befuddled and not knowing what is going on, waving a wand in Voldemort's lair."

Snape stared at him, then nodded sharply.

"I will just hold out the Portkey for him to touch. I will need a shielded container in which to transport it as well."

"Ron, Hermione . . . send urgent messages to Arthur Weasley. We need immediate approval of a Portkey. Remus is already on his way. We will need help to set all this up so swiftly."

Dumbledore and Snape strode together out of the room. The old study had been set up as a magic laboratory (heavily guarded not only against outside forces, but also Fred and George). There, they set to work.

Everything was ready. All that remained was just to check that Harry was alone in his cell.

The mind-touch was even more dangerous now, with both parties to it in perilous and fragile states.

Snape was standing by the fireplace. Harry's green eyes glittered coldly as he nodded at Dumbledore that he was ready to begin.

Harry supposed that, objectively, not much time had passed since he first found himself slumped, trembling with pain, in the freezing cell. It seemed quite long enough, however. Long enough for him to have reviewed all the myriad ways in which Voldemort and his Death-Eaters could inflict further pain upon him. Long enough for him to wonder whether it would be better, or worse, if Voldemort knew he was not in fact the traitor, Snape, but the famous Harry Potter.

Long enough to wonder whether the Order had any chance at all of helping him. He did not know where Snape had gone. Perhaps he had died from the shock of his experiences, and he, Harry, was now animating his body...

"_Potter."_

_Harry's head jerked. "Sn..Snape?"_

"_Potter, are you alone?"_

_The touch on his mind was the merest whisper, a butterfly wing delicately skimming over his thoughts._

"_Yes..."_

"_Have they – visited you since I left?"_

"_No."_

"_Good. But we have little time."_

The next moment, a familiar crack rang out in the darkness. Harry peered up at his own shadowy form bending over him.

"Sn...Snape?"

"I have a Portkey," Snape rapped out in a harsh whisper, his hand indicating his left pocket. "In just a moment we can depart. But first – "

Snape touched the tip of his wand to the chains weighing down his own body. He murmured something, and the locks sprang open.

"Now – " Snape began, his hand moving swiftly towards his pocket. At that very moment, the cell door burst open in a flood of sickly green light.

It was Bellatrix again, and with her was Lucius Malfoy.

"IMPEDIMENTA!" she yelled before Snape had a chance to react. Frozen, he fell sideways, sprawling beside Harry on the floor.

"Well now," Bellatrix was practically purring. "When the Apparating Alarm sounded, I had no idea it was going to bring us such a tasty treat. Look, Lucius! Look who it is!"

"Harry Potter." Lucius Malfoy's voice was as smug and self-satisfied as Harry had ever heard it. "Bella, my dear, our Lord is going to be so very pleased with us! He is already waiting in pleasurable anticipation to deal with Snape here, once he has been been broken down yet further. Now we can bring him an appetizer as well – or perhaps even dessert!"

Both laughed and advanced further into the cell. Neither Harry nor Snape found the situation quite so amusing.

"But first," Bellatrix said brightly, "I think we should give Harry some entertainment. It would be such a pity for him to come all the way here and spend no time at all with Severus. Why, I had no idea that you two were such good friends. But then, Severus, there are so many things we did not know about you, are there not?"

"Yes..." Malfoy said slowly. "But how _did_ he get here? How did he locate us?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "He will shortly have no secrets left to him. If he is the best they could send, it is not impressive. But first – "

While Bellatrix and Malfoy continued their taunting conversation, Snape had doggedly been working to throw off the worst effects of the curse. With great effort, he found he could, somewhat clumsily, move one hand slightly.

"_Potter!" Harry heard in his head. "Don't forget the Portkey! Golfball, wrapped in handkerchief. Left pocket."_

At that, Snape, exerting his will, managed to move his hand: jerkily, and just a few inches. But it was enough. His fingers – Harry's fingers – closed on the arm of his own body.

The world vanished, with a whirling maelstrom and a roar like the sucking of the sea. Gasping and sick, Harry discovered that he was back in his own body. Why? Why had Snape done that-?

His largely immobile body was kicked roughly out of the way. Malfoy's shoes had pointed toes. It hurt. Still paralysed, he found he could nevertheless see and hear clearly as Bellatrix and Malfoy pointed their wands at Severus Snape.

Harry tried to close his mind to what followed. He could not, of course, have closed his ears, even if he were not under a spell. " u Why? /u " was the thought which kept rampaging through his head. Snape had swapped them back. He had left Harry with the Portkey, giving him a slim chance of escape once he was able to move. He had deliberately chosen the punishment even now being inflicted on him. But why? Snape loathed him. He always had.

Finally, Bellatrix and Malfoy seemed to tire of their game. Or perhaps they realized that if they went any further, they would end up depriving Lord Voldemort of his pleasures. At any rate, they left Snape in a heap and turned their attentions to Harry. Bellatrix plucked his wand from his limp hand.

"Enervate!"

Now able to move, Harry stared at her, at Malfoy, at Snape's semi-conscious body.

"_The Portkey, Potter."_

It was the merest thread of a sound. And it was right there in his pocket, he could touch it and in an instant be whisked back to safety –

Malfoy had narrowed his eyes.

"Wait." He said abruptly. "Potter would not have come here without some means of returning. Cover him with your wand, Bella, and I will search him."

"_Now, Harry. Go_." Snape was even fainter than before.

Harry took a step back as Malfoy approached. He couldn't get the Portkey to Snape in a such a way that both of them could touch it before Malfoy or Bellatrix were able to hex him down. But he just had to touch it, that was all, and he himself would be gone –

For a split second, Harry stood poised in indecision. Hermione had once accused him of having a _saving_-_people_-_thing_. Could he just leave, just go, without at least trying to save Severus Snape? But what could he do?

Harry's hand closed on the object in his pocket....

"WAIT!" he said loudly.

Malfoy eyed him. "What for, Potter?"

Harry's mind raced. "I have – I have a Muggle weapon in my pocket. I'm holding it now. It's called a grenade. We thought there would be too many magical defences, so I brought this. If you move any closer, or if you try to put a spell on me, I will blow all of us up." He tried for a jaunty tone. "I don't know how large the explosion will be. It might get Lord Voldemort himself, who knows..."

Malfoy had paused. He still looked deeply suspicious.

"He's lying," Bellatrix said softly.

"Perhaps." Malfoy was thinking deeply. "Perhaps. He was brought up by Muggles, he does know about their filthy devices...Or perhaps it is something else he has in his pocket. A Portkey, for example."

Harry tried to keep his face bland and still. His heart was beating very fast. He would have just the one chance – just the once chance –

He managed to find it in himself to produce a pleased laugh. Malfoy and Bellatrix, taken aback, exchanged quick glances.

"Mr Malfoy," Harry said carefully. "You said it yourself. You asked how I got here. I had help. While you two have been down here with us, all of your friends are under atta – MAD-EYE!"

Harry looked over the Death Eaters' shoulders as if in vast relief and delight. They both span round, wands raised, to face the open cell door.

With the reflexes trained by Quidditch, Harry literally flung himself across the cell, releasing the Portkey from its coverings mid-leap. He clutched hold of Snape's body as hard as he could at the very instant as the familiar wrench in his navel began, and hooked them both from this moment of existence into another.

"Well," said Fred.

"Goodness me," said George.

Harry, entwined with Snape, landed with a resounding thud in the centre of the kitchen floor in number 12, Grimmauld Place. Ginny, Hermione and Ron all leaped round in shock. They had been setting the table for dinner, although none of them had felt very hungry.

"I did not know," said Fred.

"That you and Snape felt that way about each other," continued George.

Harry ignored them, and struggled to his knees. Fred and George stopped smirking when they saw the condition Snape was in. They still, however, looked most relieved to see Harry and Snape back and each, apparently, more or less in one piece.

"Are you Harry – or Professor Snape?" Hermione was demanding of him.

"Harry," replied Harry.

He was then pulled to his feet in a fierce hug.

"Oh, Harry, are you all right? You saved him, Harry!" Hermione beamed.

"Well – no more than he saved me –"Harry mumbled awkwardly, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Hadn't somebody better fetch help? I think Snape will need to go to St Mungo's for treatment."

Snape had slowly been stirring. At this, he murmured some words which only Harry and Hermione were close enough to make out.

"_Professor_ Snape, Potter. Ten points - from - Gryffindor."

His lip curled. This was a familiar enough sight. Funnily enough, though, Harry could almost have sworn it was not in a sneer, but the sketch of a smile.


End file.
